Kaylee McDennis
Height: Tall Weight: Average Hair colour: Light blonde Eye colour: Grey Nationality: N/A (Nomadic: Country of birth Denmark) First language: Old Norse (Required by Tribe law as the Unifying Language) / Icelandic Family Members (Eevikson’s) Prior to Kaylee’s falsely heroic departure, there were 17 people who bore the Eevikson name accounting for but a slim portion of the tribe as a whole. Despite their small numbers, the clan was further fragmented and regarded each individual household as strangers so as to save face should one do something which bought the name into disrepute. *Kaylee Eevikson (Grand-mother) *Liese Eevikson (Mother) *Aulis Eevikson (Older Brother) *Eija Eevikson (Younger Brother) Family Members (McDennis’s) *Gerald McDennis *Dennis McDennis *Roger McDennis *Denise McDennis Personality Quite a contrast from her mother, Kaylee was far more passive in her approach to life. She did not start or participate in many arguments however god forbid should you be able to coax her into one. Hitting from an entrenched position upon the moral high ground, with full clarity of thought and a stubborn personality, this was where her normally sporadic and incoherent thoughts manifested into a verbal weapon deniable only by the adamantium shield of total authority. This was what her War-master hid behind, however like any shield the skill and stamina of the wielder were the true determining factors of the fight. Her fantastical notions and upbeat personality sparked a silent yet obvious war between her and the War-master, her stubborn personality making an appearance as it dragged on slowly for 5 years… Likes *Travelling *Peculiar individuals *Whale steak Dislikes ''' *Losing possessions *Being alone *Power hungry maniacs '''History Hailing from a long established nomadic tribe, ‘Kaya Eevikson’ was a peculiar soul and a middle child sandwiched between two much appraised male siblings. Her manner was openly disapproved of by the tribe’s Warmaster who saw her lack of constraint in action and personality as an affront to his power. Punishments were liberally applied on a regular basis however due to a lack of results a more final measure was taken. Negotiations with a lowland swamp tribe were opened for an unconditional arranged marriage, however news travelled quickly and known stories of Cleansing being considered a near heretical practice among these tribes did little for her desire to accept such a fate. Breaking away from her work group prior to evening meal registration she snuck down to the river’s edge where one of the primitive punishment instruments had been set up around a tree. The pivoting arm of the device would lower the ‘offender’ into the icy cold water where they could be kept until satisfied. Damaging the central pivot, she weakened the main beam in the hope that it would break during her next punishment, which given her absence would be the following morn. All went according to plan, however her brother’s participation in a brawl the previous evening landed him on the line as first to take the punishment. The punishment was administered successfully however during his removal from the water the pivot broke and he was plunged into the water. Kaya’s plan of an accidental death quickly had to change to that of a hero's death, and breaking free from the grasp of her handler jumped into the water to try and save her brother. A struggle followed as she tried to push his tense muscular form to the side. Eventually she succeeded in pushing her brother against what she hoped for a brief moment was the river bank, however in doing her skull met rock and she floated on unconscious and alone down stream. The cool morning mists had given way to an early afternoon sun when Kaya awoke. She had washed up on a sandy peninsular a good time ago, sun burn on the back of her neck made that obvious. Something must have been favouring her to have escaped the ordeal with little more than bruises and a splitting headache. Now however she forged on alone through the lowlands she had been left in. Her heading was south, her aim was to get back on her feet and find some sort of purpose. The first few settlements she had known her Tribe to stop by from time to time. The leaders of the tribe were the only one’s permitted to approach larger settlements, so it was a safe bet that she could go there unrecognised. She had to change her name though; the Eeviksons name was rare outside her tribe. A connection would be too easily drawn. Forgoing a family name would definitely keep her presence off the grape vine but something ought to remain of her heritage. The name that belonged to her grandmother encompassed enough of her names to satisfy, ‘Kaylee’ would do. Two months of hopping from town to town, avoiding the smaller settlements she had visited previously. Scavenging and the good will of others helped with the basics during her first days. New clothes came easily enough, supplies were good and plentiful if you knew where to look and the lucky find of a satchel made the few basic keepsakes she could replace from her last life, possible to hold. A cool misty morning under the fading stars gave rise to her first meeting with Teresa, the brief meeting ended rather abruptly however it managed to change Kaylee’s direction and send her west towards France. Teresa and Kaylee moved onwards, problems if faced by one crumbling readily beneath the two of them. After a short rendezvous with a group of Teresa’s friends as they herded cattle on the open domesticated plains of civilized Europe (oddly enough in poorly designed wild western outfits) they pushed on in their travels towards the French town of Sangatte where they could apparently grab some cheap transport from the locals. All was going well however negotiations fell apart at the name ‘United Kingdom’. Apparently another dispute between the two countries meant that no registered French sailors would sail into the countries waters. Instead in a floating tavern down the shore, falling apart from wood rot and high waves, they found a rather interesting Gentleman who claimed to have the most efficient transport on the channel coast. After some brief talks an agreement was forged and the group set off onto the rickety pontoons at the rear of the tavern. His boat was a basic wooden fishing boat with a number of large boxes covered with sheets attached precariously to different points, the first three resting near the bow, and a further two sitting on the bench seat behind a tall crate which looked to act aesthetically at least as the helmsman’s control tower. The Man released a flock of seagulls from the bow which fluttered about with no great conformity of direction however as soon as he unveiled the kestrels in the crates next to him, they all flew away off the bow and releasing the kestrel cages and mooring ropes in unison, the boat rocked forward pulled by its avian engines. The strange craft tossed and turned in the waves, however it braved the distance across the channel until land could be seen in the mist, a charcoal grey silhouette against a gradual horizon of white and blue. As the approached the shore they could see a great number small wooden boats converging on the shore just behind a large bit of headland. They slowly moved across behind this large peninsular and the long excruciating trawl towards the shore began while the eccentric gentleman pulled a number or his flock back into their cages to better regulate their approach speed. As the boat drew near however they noticed smoke start to rise over the horizon and a scramble of fur clad axe-men on the beach moving to meet them…